


Words Synonymous With Danger

by lucayathegood



Category: The Thundermans
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest, Thundercest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucayathegood/pseuds/lucayathegood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max decides he wants to become a supervillain and the first thing she thinks is "why?" Thundercest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phase

_**A.N. So, I know I haven't updated The Rocky Horror Thunder Show in a really long time. I've just kind of lost inspiration for that story, but hopefully that inspiration comes back sooner or later (preferably during Christmas Break). I know this chapter is short, but I've been sitting on this story idea for a while now and wanted to get something up. I hope you guys like it! The more Thundermans the better, right?** _

 

* * *

 

_Phase_

Age: 13

Max decides he wants to become a super villain and the first thing she thinks is  _why_? He won't tell her - no one will. Mom and Dad think it's just a phase, that it'll come and go as puberty does the same. But Max won't budge, and she's never seen him this excited about anything before so she makes a decision, too. She will be supportive of Max, for surely this won't last forever, and then they can go back to being the superhero team she knows they're meant to be.

It's what everyone says, anyways.

"The ThunderTwins, ready to take the world by storm!" Or Metroburg, at least.

So she doesn't say anything at first. Max is thirteen now - old enough to make decisions of his own (even if those decisions aren't for his own good. But he doesn't need a twin sister to tell him the obvious. He'll realize it soon enough.)

It's been a few weeks. And those weeks have become months, and she's waited patiently, she really has. She even refrained from lashing out when he replaced her shampoo with ranch dressing, or melted her retainer and froze the case. No, she wants to give him the space he needs to get over whatever this thing with being a villain is. She's ignoring him because she honestly doesn't think she could handle him otherwise, and he's doing everything in his power to get her attention.

That's why one day, a month after their family moves to Hiddenville, Phoebe asks Mrs. Michaels to switch partners in science class. She just wants to give Max space, okay? And if he looks a little hurt when he's replaced with her new crush Allen Adams, well, he should have thought about that before he decided to end their superhero partnership.

Allen is asking her for the unit of some kind of measurement, or, something, she doesn't know. She's too busy concerning herself with the fact that their pinkies have brushed together exactly three times in fifteen minutes. The rest of the class goes by in a similar fashion: Allen trying to talk to her and her doing something stupid and avoiding eye contact.

Another twenty minutes pass and she thinks she's finally worked up the courage to talk to him, so she turns to face him, setting her pencil and notes aside.

"A-" but nothing comes out. So she tries again.

"Al-" And, okay, she got two words out that time. Some people might call that progress. And then something hits her, hard. Literally. She whips her head around fast in the direction of whoever threw it. Of course. He's looking at her with that cocky grin, pointing under your desk. Her eyes follow his, noticing the single piece of wadded up notebook paper. She raises her eyebrows. Does he want her to read it? Or does he just feel like annoying someone today?

She reaches down to grab it, careful not to disrupt Allen, who didn't notice what happened or just didn't care to ask.

The note is written in chicken scratch, sides of the paper torn from where he must have ripped it out of his notebook.

"Hey, Dweeby"

And, okay, did he need to pass a note? He could've just texted. She doesn't finish rolling her eyes before the bell rings, and then she's cursing Max for distracting her from finally talking to Allen. Because she was definitely going to do that.

It's not until the next day that Phoebe actually speaks to Max.

She's walking into class, ready to take her place in the seat closest to the front, when she feels a breeze. A breeze that's only familiar to her and one other person.

She catches Max in the corner of her eye, hands moving in front of him. Before she can so much as turn around, she hears a cry. It's Allen, but she could've guessed that. He's slipped, a stack of textbooks falling hard on his outstretched arm. And there goes her chance at talking to him. Because, again, she was going to talk to him. She was going to say something this time, she swears.

Allen's being guided to the Nurse's office when Max takes the seat next to her.

"Hey, partner." His smile is easy, and she's torn between smiling back or slapping him. (slapping. definitely slapping.) Luckily, she doesn't do either.

"What?" He asks, and how can he act like he didn't just do what she knows he just did?

She crosses her arms. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like you didn't just," her eyes overlook the classroom to make sure no one's paying attention, "use your powers!"

He mimics her worry, scanning the room. "What are powers?" He stage-whispers in mock stupidity, and she smacks him with a book in return.

"Ow!" He rubs his arm, hand to his chest in an i-am-so-offended-how-could-you way.

The silent treatment is a game she likes to think she's an expert at. At least, that's what her experience growing up with Max has led her to conclude, and so she plays it well. For thirty seconds, anyways. By the next ten she's turning on him.

"Why would you do that, Max? You know how much I like him," she pouts.

He dismisses her with the wave of a hand. "Oh, you never would've talked to him anyways. You're more uncomfortable around him than Dad is around salads."

Phoebe scoffs. "Not true."

"True. Look on the brighter side, Pheebs. We're partners again. You get to keep my GPA up."

She waits, expecting him to elaborate. "...And?"

He looks at her quizzically, laughing lightly. "...And what?"

She lets out a frustrated sigh. "Ugh, you know what, Max? I'm getting tired of this whole.." she motions to him, ".. 'evil' shtick. It's not who you are and we both know it. So why don't you just get your lab worksheet out and we'll get started _together_ , _okay_?" (Her emphasis on the last two words wasn't intentional but she doesn't know what to make of that so she doesn't) She opens her notebook, flipping to a clean page.

There's a pause, and she wonders, only briefly, if she's hurt him. His eyes trail down to her notebook, hand gripping his pencil a little tighter than necessary.

Phoebe waits patiently, but Max doesn't make any move to do what she asked.

She turns to face him, head tilting to the side. "Look, I won't tell Mom and Dad about this if that's what you're worried about, okay? I know we're not supposed to use our powers outside of the house, but, it's not like you'll be making a habit of it, right?" she tries with a hopeful smile. "It's fine, really, I guess. They know it's just a phase, anyways."

Before she can ask what he thinks he's doing, after he'd gone through all that trouble to have her as a partner again, Max has packed his supplies into his backpack and taken his previous place in the back of the classroom.

Her face twists in confusion (and hurt), but then the teacher's back from the nurse and she's asking for the definition of an enzyme and suddenly Phoebe can't think anymore.

"... so everybody can partner up, okay?" Phoebe steals a glance to the seat next to her, hoping that it will be filled when she looks but knowing that it won't be.

She looks around the classroom, taking notice of everyone around her. They all make eye contact with each other across the room, probably having known each other their whole lives. It's signal that they know who their respective partners will be, and Phoebe tries not to do the same with Max. That Cherry girl in the corner seems nice enough, though. And maybe she can finally make a real friend.


	2. Birthday

_**A.N. - Thank you so much for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting! It really means a lot! So, this chapter goes with "Have an Ice Birthday." I changed something about the show just a tiny bit, but it's a small thing just to go with my story.** _

_Birthday_

Age: 14

It's 11:45 pm when Max decides that his birthday was a decent one. Yeah, he might not have gotten the chance to enjoy the party he'd spent  _literally all day_  planning ("I am such as hardworking person, Phoebe!") and, okay, the night did end with one puppet show more than he'd willingly admit to anyone outside immediate family, but it was still okay. Yeah.

It's only when Max is contemplating how to get out of tomorrow's classes - what did he do to deserve having his birthday on a school night? - that he remembers something important. And, truthfully, he'd probably just blocked it out of his mind purposefully because of how embarrassing it's going to be for him, but he's not the only one around here with a birthday.

" _Come down here_ ," he types out on on his phone with one hand, because who has time for two? It's a shot in the dark; Phoebe's never up this late on a school night. He gets that making her come down here to his room so he can do a nice thing for her probably defeats the purpose of actually doing anything at all, but he can only manage so many good deeds in one night, alright?

An answering text pops up almost instantly: " _busy_." She used a period. Wow.  _Someone must be in a bad mood._  Of course she'd be up, though - probably studying for their science test that Max is just now remembering about. How could he not have guessed that?

" _pleeeaasseee_ "

Max waits, staring blankly at the screen. Three small dots appear, finally, next to her name in his phone (It's  _Dweeby_ , but don't tell Phoebe that.) He looks at them for what feels like forever, and then they're gone. (On second thought, you can definitely tell her.)

Two and a half minutes later (not that his eyes were glued to the time on his phone until he heard the doorknob twist open) and Phoebe's there. She stands at the foot of his steps, phone clutched in her hand. She's still wearing the birthday dress she'd picked out with Cherry at the mall earlier that day. He had been there, too. Had he given any input on how the dresses made her look? Of course not. Not out loud, at least.

"What is it, Max? I'm trying to study..." she whines. Looking around his room and seeing no sign of anything remotely school-related, she sighs. "You  _are_ aware that we have a test tomorrow, aren't you?" Her hand flies instinctively to her waist. (His eyes instinctively follow). "Because Mr. Begbude let's me pass out the graded papers. I saw your last test, Max Thunderman, and let me just say-" And then Max's hand is covering her mouth, clamping it shut in an attempt to quiet her. Because, okay, full name? Really?

"Pheebs! I get it!" He drops his hand before she can bite it off, something he knows she won't hesitate to do. His hand opts for scratching his neck, instead.

They stand there, Phoebe in tired confusion and Max in quite contemplation. Did he really have to do this? He could easily explain away why he needed her by saying he wanted her to, like, help him study (which..), or that Colosso's cage needs cleaning (it's not a lie), or an endless number of excuses, really. Excuses that neither of them have time for. Yeah, that sounds the most appealing to Max. But-

"I got you something," he says it in the form of a question, like he hasn't decided if he should give this to her or not. But it's not a question, and he  _does_  want to, and then his hand is fishing for something in his pants pocket (and then his hand is slightly shaking) and then he does.

"You got me something?" That time it's a question. It just doesn't come from him.

"Yeah... it's no big deal, really," but if the way his hands tremble as he hands her the president is any indicator, then it is. He just doesn't know why.

It's a small box, wrapped (two months ago) in red - Phoebe's favorite color. It's leftover Christmas wrapping paper, something he had to bug everyone else in the family for before he actually found himself, but he doesn't think she'll mind either way. He hopes not; Christmas is her favorite holiday, after all. She opens it gingerly, a look somewhere between shock and suspicion on her face.

Her eyes light up. "Oh,  _Max_ , you weren't kidding!" she exclaims as she pulls the gold necklace from its box, holding it up high in front of her. (Hopefully not high enough for Colosso to see. He's been silent all night, but Max knows he's listening. He knows the crap he'll get about this for weeks.) "A lightning bolt? I love it!" Her smile is bright and he swears it's blinding him.

"Yeah, just don't let the villain league here about this," he jokes, rolling his eyes. Not that he means it. Not that it's what he really wants to say. At least, he doesn't think it is.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at her. It's not often that he does something nice for anyone, least of all Phoebe. Villains don't give gifts, and he tells Phoebe as much.

"Well,  _superheroes do_. Thank you, Max." She smiles sweetly, and it does something kind of weird to Max's stomach. He's probably just hungry - pizza with fake cheese doesn't do the stomach any favors. Maybe there's some more birthday cake in the..

Her grunts of frustration draw him back to reality. He looks at her, watches as she faces his mirror, back turned to him. She unclasps the necklace, attempting to put it on, but getting an end lost in the process. She tugs, trying to get it free from her hair without tangling it further.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Phoebe," he says with caution, hands reaching for the necklace as he slips behind her. "I paid a lot of money for this thing, let me help." What? It's true.

Max can see her eyes roll, holding her hair up and giving him an  _i'm not buying this for a second_ look. "Okay, someone paid a lot of money for this thing, Phoebe." He says it because it's what Phoebe wants to hear, to lighten the mood. But it's not true (And his lack of remaining Christmas money could tell you that). They stand there a few more seconds as he messes with the chain, her eyes on the necklace and his on her.

"There," he says, dropping the necklace and letting it fall back against her chest. Her eyes lock with his in the mirror. "Thank you, Max." She holds the lightning bolt between her thumb and forefinger. The air is thick, and Max isn't really sure why his palms are sweating. "It... really means a lot. I know that you act like you don't care, but-"

"N-n-n-no," he waves his finger in front of him, "I can only handle so many  _feelings_  a night, sorry Pheebs." He smirks, but there's this funny thing happening to his pulse and he thinks that if he doesn't get her out of here right now that... well, he doesn't really know  _what_  will happen. And that might be the scary part.

"You're welcome that this year I remembered I wasn't the only one with a birthday."

She laughs, and he's relieved. "Well,  _I_  didn't forget." She turns away from the mirror before he can, too, and then her lips are on his cheek.

And then his cheeks are red.

She smiles shyly, looking down at her feet. "Thanks, Max." She's gone a few seconds later and he his eyes still haven't left the mirror.

"Hello? Villain's League? Yes, this is Dr. Colosso. I'd like to inform you that Max Thunderman does, indeed, have a heart!"

Max tears his eyes away, snatching the phone from him. "Colosso!" He shuts the cage in retaliation before settling down in his bed.

"It's not my fault you  _lov_ -"

"Oh, go to bed, Colosso!" He yells, throwing a pillow in his general direction. Too dark to actually do anything.  _Damn_. He pulls his phone out to ignore the fact that what he thinks Colosso was about to say is making his heart kind of race.

His phone screen lights up the otherwise dark room as he scrolls through his feeds, because, please, did she really think he was going to study?

He scrolls for a while, slowly getting sleepier and, frankly, more annoyed with each selfie that he scrolls past. Tiredly, and because he's convinced himself he really has nothing better to do, he types out Phoebe's username.

It's double selfies with her new best friend Cherry and pictures of their birthday cake that Max expects to find when he taps her name. Instead he finds a picture of Phoebe, sitting at her vanity in her birthday dress. He taps it immediately, he tells himself, so he can read whatever dumb caption she came up with and make fun of her in the comments. But when it loads, he sees the lightning bolt necklace that he hadn't seen the first time and scrolls down.

" _It is lovely, when I forget all birthdays, including my own, to find that somebody remembers me. - Ellen Glasgow_ "

And  _of course_  she would write something as cheesy as that. But it doesn't stop the thoughts in Max's mind that maybe, just maybe, that was kind of meant for him.

It's 12:01 am when Max decides that, yeah, it was a good birthday.


	3. Anniversary

**Date**

_Age: 15_

Red is Phoebe's favorite color, and she wears it proudly: On her dress, on her lips, on her cheeks. She spends the entirety of the weekend (dress and nails with Cherry on Friday, hair and makeup on Saturday) getting ready for a date with her boyfriend, Link. Oh, he's just _amazing._ And she wants their anniversary date to be as such. It- It's very important to her. Something she hopes to remember for the rest of their life.

Her reflection stares back at her through a vanity, revealing a Phoebe who is very, very nervous but isn't quite sure why. A Phoebe who studies the odd flush of her cheeks, listening absentmindedly to the quiet rambling of her best friend over the phone. She breathes deeply, attempting to calm herself. _In, out._

_In._

_Out._

_In_ -

"Phoebe? Are you listening to me?"

_Out._

"I'm still here, Cherry," she reassures. Her gaze falls to the paint on her nails, already chipped on one finger.

"So, do you really think tonight's the night?" A hopeful Cherry wonders, curiosity in her voice.

Phoebe scrunches her eyebrows down, mascara nearly ruining them in the process. _Ugh._

"The night for what?" She reaches across the table for makeup wipes, dabbing them across her eyebrows.

"Uh, duh, the night you guys are actually gonna do it." If Phoebe was holding anything in her hands at the moment, it'd probably be on the floor right now. Along with her jaw. How did they go from talking about science class to, to _this_ so fast?

"Cherry!" Is the surprise evident through the phone? She holds it away from her face, staring accusingly as if it were her real friend.

"What? _I_ almost did it with Kevin." The casual tone of Cherry's speech shocks Phoebe. Not as much as the immediate change in subject, but still.

"Kevin _Carpenter_?" She visibly gags. "Your first time was with Kevin Carpenter and and you didn't even bother to tell me?"

"I said _almost_."

"Practically the same thing."

"Oh, come on, Phoebe. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it yet."

She had, actually. She'd thought about it a lot, thank you very much. Like, at least six times, okay?

She scoffs. "I-I've thought about it. Plenty."

"Okay, because it's your anniversary tonight, and I was about to say..."

 _Oh._ It's their anniversary date. Right. Maybe that's what has her so nervous. Phoebe might be naive, but she isn't oblivious, and she certainly isn't stupid. She knows what other couples at her school do (What her brother probably does, but she's not going to think about that). She knows she isn't a little kid anymore. And it's not like she hasn't done stuff with Link. Just, not _that_. Not yet. Not now.

"Cherry, I don't think-"

" _Phoebe! Stretchy's here!_ " This early?

"Gotta go, Cherry." She hangs up, uncharacteristically cutting her friend off. She's just nervous. _Very_ nervous. The ten pounds of powder she piled on her face when she was just mildly worried are no match for how she feels now. Special thank you to Cherry for the thoughts now running through her head.

What if Link really does want to do it tonight? Is that something she thinks she's ready for? How do you know if you're ready for something like that? Where would they go? How would that even work? Is Link a virgin, or the type of guy who's probably had condoms stuffed in the back of his top bedside table drawer forever? She isn't even sure what color underwear she's wearing. Is that the kind of thing that matters to guys? Ohmygod Ohmygod.

_Breathe In._

_Breathe Out._

She can't let these feelings get the best of her.

 \\\\\

Phoebe's hand trails the banister on her way down the stairs, her head held high. Don't trip. Don't trip. Max's head whips up from the couch, mouth opening slightly at the sight of her. Or, maybe he's about to say something. He gulps, but she's a little too preoccupied to take full notice. His eyes travel the length of her legs, maybe. Wait, _what_? That much she (thinks) she notices. Wait a second - is he checking her out? No, no, he can't be. God, that's ridiculous. Of course he's not checking her out; He's waiting for her to get down the stairs. Duh.

Wow, so anxiety doesn't suit Phoebe very well. She peaks around the corner during her descent, sighing when she sees no sign of her boyfriend. A sigh of disappointment or of relief, she isn't quite certain.

"Max? Where's Link?" Her look is slightly accusing. "I thought you said he was here already. I was on the phone with Cherry!" Her back turns, headed up the stairs once more.

Max reaches out in her direction, turning her around to face him. "Not so fast, princess."

_Princess?_

His hands slip casually back in his pockets. "I wanted to talk to you before he gets here."

He wants to talk to her? Since when does Max _ever_ want to talk to her these days? He's too busy talking to Dr. Colosso. Whatever it is, he can just tell the bunny for all she's willing to care. An eyebrow raises, followed quickly an eye roll. "What did you do this time, Max?"

"It's not what I did, it's what you're going to do."

"Excuse me?" Her arms cross.

He sighs. "Just-just, like, hear me out for a second. Alright?" He guides her to the couch, sitting down. He makes sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between the two of them.

"Okaaayy.." She's still unsure what this is all about, but it's taking her mind off of previous problems of the mind, so it's fine with her.

"Okay, so," she's beginning to notice how visibly uncomfortable he's being around her, if his use of stalling words are any indication, "I know tonight's your anniversary with Link, and," his hand gestures awkwardly in front of him.

_Oh no._

"I just, umm, want you to know," his eyes avert hers. This isn't what she thinks this is. Is it?

" _You know_ , guys are, like, only after _one th_ -"

Her eyes widen considerably. "Max!" She also may or may not have thrown a throw pillow at him. (Get it? Throw pillow?)

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I know what you were about to say, and I just," is this honestly how everyone around her views their relationship? "I don't want to hear it." Her arms cross again in defiance.

He quirks an eyebrow. "You don't want to hear it? Well, I don't really want to say it, but someone's got to." He has his motivation back.

"Why?" She throws her arms up. "Why is everyone suddenly so concerned about my.. my _sex life_?" The blush creeping up her neck was definitely caused by anger. Right, anger.

Max snorts. "Or lack thereof?" And the throw pillow strikes again.

"I'm sorry, Pheebs," he apologizes, rubbing his arm. "It's just, I, just-" He scratches the back of his neck, allowing his eyes to finally meet hers. "I don't want to be having this conversation, either. But.. be careful, okay?"

She'd rather be having any other conversation right now. Like, seriously. Anything. Literally talking about anything else would be an improvement from this. _This_ is awkward.

Her hands tangles together, discomfort evident on her face as well as his. How do you begin to answer something like that? How do you continue a conversation like this one? Phoebe doesn't know, but she tries anyways.

"..I will." Is that it? Is that what he wants to hear? It's not what Cherry wanted to hear, but Cherry isn't Max. Cherry isn't her brother.

Max nods, an uncomfortable silence falling around them. Like it could possibly get worse than it already is.

Phoebe knows she probably shouldn't ask, knows it's really none of her business, and that if he hadn't have brought the topic up that she most certainly wouldn't even entertain the idea, but - "Have you?" And it's out. It's out and she can't take it back.

Max's eyes trail up to rest on hers, curiosity in them. "Have I ever what?"

Phoebe hadn't thought this far ahead, not thinking he'd need her to spell it out for him. She thought she could just ask him and he'd just tell her and it'd be sort of like ripping off a band aid she never knew she needed.

"... _Oh_." And Max hadn't expected this to circle around to him, either. "Um," his hands, much as hers, tangle and untangle nervously, and she waits with baited breath for his answer. She expects him to say yes. All boys have done it, haven't they? They lie about it, at least.

Is that what she wants to hear, though? Or is she hoping he says no?

Why would she want him to say no?

"Not, um, not exactly?" He winces as he says it. She doesn't think she needs any further explanation, but he gives it regardless.

"I want," and his eyes are back on hers, "I _don't_ want to do it."

"You don't?" She wants to believe him, but she's finding that kind of hard to do. What teenage guy doesn't want to have sex?

"That's not what I meant. I just don't think I want to do it _yet_." He's looking at her, awkward in his body language still, but not as noticeably as before. "I guess it kind of needs to be with the right person, you know?"

Yeah, she thinks she does know. And to think she even considered doing it with Link tonight, when they've only known each other for, what, four months? Hardly enough time to know someone on a level so deep that she'd feel comfortable sharing herself with him like _that_.

She pushes her hair back over her shoulder nonchalantly. "Yeah, I get it. I mean, I kind of freaked out, too," she giggles, "I wasn't really thinking about it before, but then Cherry brought it up that Link might want to, which is so silly, because we barely know each other, you know? Link could never _possibly_ want to-"

"-don't say that."

"Say what?" What's the big deal, anyways? When she really thinks about it, Link probably doesn't want to do it, nor did he probably ever want to in the first place. She can thank Cherry later for putting those thoughts in her mind.

"That any teenage guy wouldn't want to have sex with you." It comes out before he can process what happened, what actually just came out of his mouth.

_Wait, what?_

"I mean, I, um," his mumbled apology comes out rushed and somewhat incoherently, but Phoebe doesn't notice. Her mind is too preoccupied with the fact that Max just... complimented her? Hit on her? He said any teenage guy, and the last time she checked..

"That sounded a lot creepier than I meant it too," he says. But how did he mean for it to come out?

"Yeah, um," she starts, but isn't sure where to go from there. And suddenly her face is red again, a _lot_ more red than it was before. Then everything, literally _everything_ becomes uncomfortable.

The silence.

The heat.

His gaze.

_Her hair._

She knows she spent hours on it, but right now it's one of the few things bugging her that she can actually do anything about, so her hand pushes it back from her face and shoulder, hoping that'll release some of the heat she can't seem to get away from at the moment. A strand gets left in front, though, and before either of them can stop him, he's got his hand close to her face, pushing it away for her.

It's a process - deliberately on unintentionally, she can't decide, nor does she care to - painfully slower than it has to be. He can feel her breath on his wrist, pushing her hair back behind her ear. But he leaves his hand in place, almost-but-not-quite cupping her face with it.

Her eyes follow his hand, not sure what else to do. Is he closer than he was a second ago?

" _Link Evilman approaching_ "

They jump away from each other fast, like maybe they've been burned. And have they? What exactly was that?

There's a knock on the door, waking them up from whatever weird trance they'd been in previously.

"Phoebe?" She hears Link's voice from outside. Max's gaze switches from Phoebe to the front door, and then back to her. He cocks his head in the door's direction.

"Right." Phoebe nods, reminding herself more than Max that she has a date tonight. That she has a boyfriend. She stands up, directing herself towards the door. "Right, okay. I guess I'm leaving now." She doesn't need to narrate everything she's doing but feels the sudden need to.

Max scratches his head, standing up, too. "Have fun," he offers. It's not that convincing, however, and they both seem to know it.

"Thanks." She's reminded of the topic of conversation just mere minutes ago, and has the feeling that nothing she does with Link tonight will make her heart race quite like it is now.

Her footsteps are light as she makes her way to the front door, not intending on keeping Link waiting. She won't invite him inside, she decides at the last minute.

Her hand is on the knob, ready to turn it.

She turns herself around, instead.

"Thank you, Max. For..looking out for me," her mind wanders back to the conversation she'd had with Cherry earlier, the sudden realization that she didn't want to do anything with anyone she didn't know enough about, couldn't possibly care enough about yet, "..not a lot of people will."

She's gone a moment later, before Max can offer anything more than a tight-lipped smile and a blush through his cheeks.

Coincidentally (or not so much), red is Max's favorite color, too.

And he wears it proudly.


End file.
